When you’re about to move in with a roommate, you hope for one of two things: he’s cool enough to get a beer with or he has a super hot sister. Luckily for me, my roommate had the latter. Normally, it is frowned upon to sleep with your roommate’s sister — it’s a no-fly zone. Well, I did. Twice. Alright, maybe it was three or four times, but who’s counting?
To accurately set the stage, we need to go back two years prior to the night of our sexual encounter. I was a freshman at a giant state school in the Southeast and it was parents’ weekend. I was out at dinner, and I was sitting next to one of my unfortunate pledge brothers, Buzzkill, and his dad, Mr. Buzzkill. In this case, it’s Dr. Buzzkill.
Somewhere between my fat filet mignon and another whiskey on the rocks, I heard Dr. Buzz turn to my own beautiful mother and say, “You know, your son could probably stand to lose a few pounds.” I’m no marvel of modern fitness by any means, and yes, I had put on a few pounds, but I was hovering comfortably in the frat fat zone of 200 pounds at this time.
My mom is one mean cuss, and it only gets worse when it comes to defending her children. She just about bit Dr. Buzzkill’s head off at the dinner table in front of everyone. She was like a lioness who cornered her prey to maul his face. I had to buy her two rounds of tequila shots just to get her to calm down.
Fast-forward about one year and eight months later to the start of our junior year. It was SEC game day, and the smell of barbecue and bad decisions was in the air. In the weeks leading up to that weekend, I had gotten to know Buzzkill’s freshman sister, Horny. She was at our tailgate with her whole family, including Buzzkill and his dad. My mom and I were getting our drink on and thinking of ways to passive-aggressively piss off the whole Buzzkill family.
We were somewhere between “just see how nice you can be,” to “just ignore them and be an adult,” when I casually threw out, “Well, you know, Mom, the younger sister is pretty into me.” I imagine there are very few times in your life when your mother would encourage you to launch your crotch rocket off at Cape Cooch, but this was one of those times. She would never admit it out loud, but part of her wanted me to hit on Horny.
So, I did. To be honest, it was one of the easiest things I had ever done. I saddled up next to her at the tailgate when she did the unthinkable. In front of her dad and brother, she turned and said, “Hey Buzzkill, aren’t you bringing your girlfriend to dinner?” He nods in the affirmative. She asked me if I wanted to come to dinner with her while grabbing my hand and pulling herself into me. I knew it was a bad idea, but, of course, I said yes. I am a gentleman, so I had to.
I had accrued quite the reputation in Buzzkill’s family as being a loud, drunk jerk (which isn’t entirely untrue) so you can imagine the look on Dr. Buzzkill’s face when she asked to take me out to the nicest restaurant in town. It was priceless.
After the game had ended, I went home to get showered and cleaned up. The situation was already awkward as Buzzkill was asking, “Why did my sister invite you?” I just said, “Dude, I don’t know, but this will be fun.” Buzzkill wasn’t drinking because, well, he’s Buzzkill, but I cracked a few more cold ones and waited for my ride. Horny showed up showing more cleavage than Kim Kardashian. It was on.
Highlights of the dinner included the following:
1. Horny grabbed my crotch on the ride to dinner.
2. Dr. Buzzkill said “jackass, that’s three” when I ordered my third beer in a little more than two hours (I thought I was being behaved).
3. Buzzkill’s date was being a complete bitch and was ignoring him the whole time while she was texting her friends and other guys.
After dinner, Horny kept grabbing my junk and tried to shove her tongue in my mouth in front of Buzzkill. I was playing it cool the whole time — I’m a gentleman, remember. That night, we went back to my place and lay on separate couches. Buzzkill came down the stairs screaming at both of us for our “lewd” behavior. It was hilarious, I have to say, but the night ended innocently.
Then came the texts, then the sexts, then the nudes. I had to.
We decided to go out one night to a bar for some drinks. She was in the middle of explaining how she’s an adult and can make her own decisions without her brother’s approval when I just blurted “Okay, I can’t take it anymore — let’s go back to my place!” She was practically getting her shower cap ready for the jizz waterfall that was to come.
Buzzkill had a big test the next day, so he was going to be studying at the library like he usually did, right? Wrong. Buzzkill was not in the library when I drunkenly stumbled through the front door. Buzzkill was sitting on the couch studying. What the fuck? Luckily, I had the foresight to leave Horny outside, so the situation was under control right? Wrong.
We made out in the bushes for a while. She was ready to go down on my better half, but I couldn’t in good conscience let her do that outside. I needed to get us inside. That was when this brilliant idea hit me.
I ran inside to Buzzkill and said “Close your eyes!” which he did, and Horny and I scurried inside and up to my room. Buzzkill definitely saw, though. That night, she delivered one of the best gargling performances I had ever seen. Most girls want to see how quickly it can be over, but I think she enjoyed this more than me knowing that her brother was downstairs.
Buzzkill was none too pleased that I had spread my seed in his sister’s mouth, so we shook hands, and I agreed not to do it again.
Whoops, I lied. We hooked up again in the dorms, in my house, and one time Buzzkill even found her underwear in my laundry. Through it all, she was always the aggressor. I was merely a piece of cattle fulfilling my duty to supply nature’s harvest. Buzzkill and I remain acquaintances to this day, but he never really came back from that one.
My mom called and asked how that first date went. I told her. She asked where I slept that night and I told her my room. She asked “alone?” I said, “no ma’am.” She actually responded, “That’s my boy.”.